Control
by Danielawesome
Summary: After breaking up with his cheating boyfriend, Blaine is forced to find a new watering hole, which is where he will meet the man that will guide his way through a world Blaine never even let himself imagine. DomKurt/SubBlaine Fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Darlings! The author returns! No, I haven't forgotten about Language of Love, Yes, I will be posting the next chapter soon enough, Yes, NaNoWriMo unfortunately turned me into it's little bitch. **

**I am ashamed. **

**This story basically came to me about a week or so ago; those of you who peruse the kink meme or are on Tumblr surely know about the recent wave of fantastic DomBlaine/SubKurt fics that have been making the rounds as of late**** and while I am as hooked on them as the next gal, my headcanon is that Kurt is the more likely to be a Dom of the two. And so Control started being written. And here is chapter one! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>They met at a bar.<p>

It was a pretty clichéd meet-cute, Blaine was the first to admit it, although he also liked to remind people that the rest of their relationship was about as far from clichéd as one could possibly get. The beginning though, was pretty classic.

Blaine was tired and overworked as usual, his job as an intern at a law firm marking him as "work mule" and "office lackey" to all those above him.

So essentially everybody.

Blaine was accustomed to hard work however, so he didn't usually let his torturous workload get to him, but every once in a while- usually on the tail end of a 50 or 60 hour work week- Blaine needed to unwind and let off some of the steam building up inside of him, lest he burst at the seams.

He would have done this as he always did, by going to his usual bar, ordering his usual beer, and repeating the motions until the pleasant fuzziness of the alcohol turned the horrors of his work week cloudy and vague. He liked to think of it as a survival method; make yourself forget how horrible your job is and you are less likely to simply show up to the office one day with a flamethrower and set fire to the place. But while he would have done this usually, today was not a usual Friday, if for no other reason that Blaine Anderson had broken up with his boyfriend a short month ago after catching him in their bed with another man.

Blaine's problem was that Jeremiah and his new boy toy frequented his bar all too often, and Blaine was in no way prepared to face either of them yet.

A month was a long time to go without releasing steam though, so Blaine decided to do the logical thing and simply find a new haunt.

It wouldn't have been a big deal to most people, in fact Blaine couldn't imagine anybody he knew having the same problem and anxiety over this as he did, but Blaine had always been a creature of habit; since he could tie his own shoes he had abided by the simple routines which now governed him life, from the mundane things to the not so mundane. He always slept on the left side of the bed, otherwise he could hardly sleep a wink. He would always hum a song when he was brushing his teeth in the morning as a vocal warm-up, a throwback to his singing days and the Warbler council's rigorous techniques. He always made his bed the second he exited the bathroom in the mornings, otherwise he would just tumble back into the sheets and not get anything done. He always washed his dishes immediately after he ate, otherwise they would pile up to high heaven and start to reek and Blaine would just keep putting off washing them it was so unpleasant, feeding into the vicious cycle of the dirty dishes.

The way Blaine saw it, having these routines, these habits, was not a bad thing. After all, he was more productive this way, more hygienic and organized, so how could it be a bad thing? But Jeremiah had constantly complained about how Blaine was a control-freak and how he should loosen up, and for a while Blaine had believed him. Blaine had tried to change for Jeremiah, to give up the little things to please his boyfriend but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't change who he was.

He was always quiet and withdrawn when Jeremiah decided to change things up by taking them to some too-loud, too-crowed, too-hot club on Fridays, or when rather than going to his monthly cultural outing- to the MoMa, or a play, or an opera- Jeremiah dragged Blaine to a frat party some friends of his were throwing. Which of course led only to Jeremiah accusing Blaine of sulking when he didn't get his way. Blaine always tried to keep calm when his boyfriend would start yelling and arguing because arguments never seemed to lead to anything to Blaine, but trying to talk things out calmly with Jeremiah had only ever lead to _more_ arguments, and accusations that Blaine thought he was better than him and to stop being so condescending.

After those arguments, their apartment was always silent and tense, and despite Blaine knowing he was in the right, the tension would only dissipate when Blaine couldn't stand to feel like a bad boyfriend any longer and apologized to Jeremiah.

In retrospect, their relationship had been far from sunny, but was it so wrong of Blaine to want to stay with the man he loved? Was it so wrong to want to please him? All Blaine had wanted was to be good enough for him, and although the way Jeremiah would yell and argue all the time should have prepared Blaine for what was coming, the sight of him and his younger, paler, taller replacement in their bed was a rude awakening from his delusion of not being a failure.

Blaine knew that if Jeremiah had strayed it was all Blaine's fault. Even if he hadn't known that, Jeremiah saying as much when he packed up his things and moved out made it very clear.

And so Blaine couldn't go to his usual bar. Because Jeremiah would be there, probably making out in public with his new boy, something that Blaine had never felt comfortable doing. And Blaine simply wasn't ready to have his short-comings rubbed in his face just yet.

Which left Blaine with the anxiety inducing task of finding a new bar. He knew that it would probably take more than a single try to find the right bar; one with dim lighting, a friendly bartender, comfortable booths that offered privacy, had live entertainment with at least _some_ regularity, wasn't too rowdy and wasn't too far from home. Just the thought of having to look for the perfect bar all over again made Blaine's hands break out in a sweat; it had taken him so long to find Barney's Bar too. But of course Jeremiah would take that from Blaine, Jeremiah had taken so much already.

Blaine took a deep breath as he walked down the street. All along it were several bars- Blaine thought the fact he lived by a street so full of bars was both a blessing and a curse, what with having such a variety to choose from- thanking his lucky stars that he had already gone into most of them while on his initial quest for a bar and could therefore cross them off his list. In fact he had gone to all the bars from his building to Barney's which lay seven blocks away from him.

He was only about 5 streets away from his apartment when he caught sight of a bar he didn't remember going into before. It was closer than Barney's so it must have popped up within the past year or two, after he had found the bar from him and had stopped looking.

The bar had large windows on it's front, although thick black curtains hid the view of the inside. The door was heavy and painted a matte black that seemed to absorb the light around it, making it stand out even more than it's classic construction amidst the modern architecture already did. Atop the door, in simple white sans serif letters was the name of the bar.

'Unmasked'

Blaine's lips quirked upwards a bit, thinking to himself that the bar was trying too hard to be trendy. He could already picture the inside, probably more of a club than a bar with girls wearing skirts entirely too short dancing around to music entirely too loud and a bartender entirely too "cool" to care about his clients and would likely not recognize a regular if they slapped him in the face.

Blaine pushed the door completely prepared to hate the place and quickly move on to the next bar but the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

The inside of the bar was more reminiscent of a lounge than a club, soft purple and dim yellow lights adorned the walls, the low ceiling painted black and holding up decorative black plastic chandeliers. Blaine could see the track lights hanging as well but they were unlit, likely only turned on when the bar was closed and the cleaning staff came in. To his left, immediately in front of him was the bar, a trendy glass see through thing with simple black stools running the length of it. Behind the bar were a man and a woman dressed impeccably in all black slacks, shirts and vests. The woman was pouring the man in front of her a beer from the tap, while her co-worker wiped off the counter on the far end of the bar before grabbing a tray of drinks and going out onto the floor. The rest of the bar seemed to stray from the modern and fall into a more classic look with round low tables and chairs filling the center of the bar and round booths with plush red velvet benches lining the walls. Along the back wall was a small stage where a variety of instruments were set up- the upright bass and saxophone case clueing him into the fact that they probably played lounge music or jazz there- although there didn't seem to be anybody performing tonight. Despite the fact that most of the tables were full, with people of all ages (although there seemed to be a majority of people in their late twenties or early thirties), the bar was almost muted, soft conversations being held by all over the low music coming from the speakers. Blaine stood by the entrance, shell shocked by the contrast of his expectations versus the reality of the bar.

When he left his house, decided on finding a new bar Jeremiah be damned, he had hoped to find something close to Barney's jovial and almost homely atmosphere, which yes, got a little too loud and too rowdy at times, but that was what a home would feel like if everybody in it was drunk, no? Blaine had prepared himself to settle for a place which would probably be rowdier than that, he told himself that that was simply how bars were and that he had to deal with it.

He wasn't prepared to find what seemed to be Blaine's dream bar on his first try.

Already he could feel the excitement bubbling up inside of him, that bubbly feeling of warmth a pleasure when things turned out right, when _Blaine_ did something right. The more logical and controlling part of his brain has telling him not to get his hopes up just yet, that for all he knew this night was a fluke and normally this was a skinhead bar or something. Or the beer could be terrible for all he knew.

His brain kept yelling out these possible deal breakers until Blaine decided the best way to shut it up was to sit at the bar and have a drink, so he walked carefully to an empty stool, unbuttoning his jacket and unwinding his scarf from around his neck as he made his way over. Not two seconds after setting his scarf down on the bar did the female bartender make her way over to him.

"Hi handsome, what can I get you tonight?"

Blaine smiled slightly at her enthusiasm and ordered a beer from whatever they had on tap, deciding to forgo his usual Heineken in lieu of trying something new to go with his new bar.

Blaine took her in as she poured the beer expertly, tipping the lightly frosted mug at angle so as to not get too much foam with the practiced grace of somebody who had been doing it for a long time. She didn't seem very old however, certainly not older than Blaine's 24 years, although maybe her youthful appearance was simply due to her almost child-like stature and her small face.

Blaine had the fleeting image of his bartender in a clearing in a forest, with pixie wings and an outfit Blaine was almost sure his brain had stolen from the production of A Midsummer Night's Dream he saw last year.

"Here you are handsome! That'll be 4.50, or would you like to open a tab for the night?" , her bubbly voice snapped him from his reverie.

"I think I'll open a tab, this is likely to be the first of several beers tonight, considering the week I've had", replied Blaine, handing her his credit card with a slightly self-deprecating smile on his lips.

The bartender laughed, not unkindly, as she swiped his card into the computer cash behind the counter.

"Sorry to hear that, handsome! Well if anything will cure what ails ya, it'll be that beer! It's a small independent local brewery that supplies what we have on tap, you won't find it anywhere else! Try it!"

She nodded encouragingly to him as he took his first sip of the cold beer, and he had to agree that it was nothing short of spectacular; the perfect balance of yeast and bitterness and a hint of zest that made it all the more refreshing.

"What do you think? Good right?", she asked with excited blue eyes. Blaine thought she was adorable.

"It's delicious," said Blaine with a genuine smile on his face. "I'll definitely need that tab now."

The bartender laughed with almost child-like delight and Blaine found himself wondering about her age once again.

"I'll be sure to keep your mug full then!" she said with a final bounce in her step before going off to tend to the other patrons sitting at the bar.

For a while Blaine just sat there, sipping his beer and watching her serve drinks and ring people up, entertained simply by her exuberance and her impressive bartending skills (one of the cocktails she made involved a lot more spinning bottles and fire than Blaine thought necessary) but soon enough he started people watching the other patrons of the bar instead.

As his first cursory glance had shown, most of the people in the bar were Blaine's age, if not a little older, but there was also a middle-aged couple sitting by the curtained window front having cocktails and looking every bit the older-yet-still-very-much-in-love couple Blaine wished to be half of when he was their age. He spent a few more minutes staring at their interactions, the way the man's serious face was brightened by the loving glint in his eyes, and how the woman's lips, perhaps not as full as they had been in her youth, looked lovely as she sent an adoring red-painted smile her man's way.

Blaine sighed wistfully and drowned the dregs of his beer.

True to her word the bartender had taken his empty mug and replaced it with a fresh one in the time it took him to reach for it again. He heard the girl's now almost familiar laugh at his surely astonished expression. He glanced her way and she shot him a wink before continuing her work.

Blaine really liked this bar.

* * *

><p>About two hours and four beers later, the bar was almost empty and Blaine had a nice buzz going on. The older couple had left about an hour ago and Blaine people watched the rest of the patrons for a short while before striking up a conversation with the now much less busy bartender who Blaine discovered was called Thea.<p>

"It's actually short for Eidothea, in greek mythology-"

"She was the daughter of Proteus, right? A sea nymph?", Blaine interrupted.

Thea stared at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth for a long moment before she spoke again.

"Marry me."

Blaine let out a loud laugh that didn't let up as she kept insisting that she was serious and would definitely marry him. Blaine was gasping for breath but he finally managed to choke out a reply between giggles. He was definitely drunk if he was giggling.

"Sorry Thea, but I'm about as gay as they make 'em. Aren't you a bit young to be thinking about marriage anyway?"

"Damn, you _would _be gay. First hot guy who doesn't need an entire lecture on Greek mythology to even know my name and you're gay. I think I'm heart broken."

This set Blaine off in another round of giggles, the look on Thea's face a perfect mix of adorable and hilarious. They chatted easily for another half hour, mostly about Thea, and how the 20 year old had managed to get a job in what Blaine found out was one of the city's most prestigious up-and-coming bars.

"I've been around alcohol my entire life! The beer on tap? It's from my father's brewery, actually. I know the ins and outs of beer and when I was sixteen I took a bartending class to learn how to mix cocktails so that I could eventually work in one of my father's bars. As soon as I turned eighteen however I applied to other bars, just so that no one could accuse me of nepotism. Not really great to have people comparing you to your father all the time, you know? Having to live in that shadow?"

Blaine became quiet, a shadow passing over his eyes. Yes, he did know what it was like living in the shadow of your father, of constantly worrying about the shoes you have to fill; the only reason Blaine had gone into law was because his father expected his only son to succeed him in the family firm. He had finished college and had interned at Anderson Law for the summer before law school and those two months were enough to send Blaine running to New York to escape the judging looks and whispers.

"Oh, that sounds a little familiar."

Thea noticed she had struck a nerve and tactfully changed the topic to how much fun working as a bartender was, and how she loved her job because she got to deal with people as wonderful as Blaine every night.

Blaine left that night with a promise to return and with a 10$ tip left behind.

* * *

><p>Work was becoming more and more unbearable.<p>

It had to be, otherwise Blaine would feel like perhaps he had a problem, what with his twice-weekly visits to the bar.

The logical part of his brain was telling him that this new habit of going to the bar on Tuesdays and Fridays was not the healthiest, not only for his liver, wallet and productivity, but because the main reason he kept going was because his only friend was the bartender. The fact that he was essentially paying her to listen to him whine about work and his lack of relationship simply could _not _be healthy, but his Warbler friends were all too far or too busy to bother with his everyday troubles, so who was left? He had met Jeremiah only weeks after moving to New York and when he built his life, he built it around him. All of his friends were actually friends of his ex's and while Blaine had never even been particularly close to any of them, the fact that they had so obviously taken Jeremiah's side in the break-up still hurt.

Blaine was alone. Blaine _hated_ being alone.

And so it was that two months after his discovery of Unmasked he was an established "regular", often coming in after a late night shift at the office for a beer (or _a few _beers) and conversations with Thea between mixing cocktails. By then Blaine knew most of the other regulars by name, not that he really interacted with them, but Thea seemed happy to fill him in on his fellow patrons. Thea had a knack for names and faces and had begun slipping Blaine the names of the patrons about three weeks after his first visit, on the two month anniversary of Jeremiah cheating on him.

It took Blaine longer than he cared to admit to realize that she only gave him the name of the eligible male patrons of the bar.

No matter how mopey Blaine got after his fifth beer however, he kept insisting that he wasn't ready to get back on the horse, so to speak, no matter how much he missed the comforting warmth of another body in bed.

"I'm no good at being a boyfriend, Thea. I only annoy my partner and hold them back from having a better relationship, and I'm the most bad- most not good- _worst, _at romance. No good at romance. Can't you just respect that Thea?", Blaine plead with his friend, a shimmer of tears in his eyes. Blaine always turned into an emotional drunk after the fourth drink.

"Oh sweetie, that's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard, but _fine_ I'll stop introducing you to guys."

And so when Blaine caught sight of an unfamiliar man sitting at the end of the bar upon entering the place one November evening, Thea remained quiet, although she kept sending Blaine meaningful looks that clearly expressed that he should park his ass on the empty stool next to his.

Blaine would have resisted had the man not been so completely mesmerizing.

From the very first glance, Blaine knew that this man was far, far, _far_ out of his league. He was dressed impeccably in a three piece charcoal suit over a slightly shimmery steel gray shirt, an expensive looking peacoat was draped over the stool to his right, and an unmistakably vintage Alexander McQueen scarf was draped around his long pale neck. His posture was perfect, like that of a ballerina, thought Blaine. He had a dancer's grace even when he was not in motion. His profile was beautiful, sharp features, the perfect blend of feminine and masculine, seemed to glow in the low lighting of the bar.

To Blaine he looked nothing short of gorgeous. Intimidatingly so.

_Courage, _thought Blaine, thinking back to the motto that had gotten him through high school in Bum Fuck, Ohio. _He's just a man at a bar, same as I._

He walked the length of the bar until he was right beside the man.

"Um, excuse me. Is this seat taken?"

Blaine shuffled his feet nervously as the man turned to him, the air leaving his lungs as the man's piercingly blue-green eyes stared him down. Although Blaine was taller standing than the man was sitting down, for a brief moment he felt as though the man was literally looking down his nose at him. The look on his face was not cold though, merely calculating. Blaine felt naked under his gaze.

"No it's not. You may sit", said the man, his voice soft and slightly high but no less commanding for it.

Blaine was just thinking it didn't sound as though he had much of a choice in the matter when his body sat down on the stool before he even realized it. Blaine had a mildly bewildered look on his face, as though he couldn't understand what his body had just done. For some reason this seemed to amuse the man greatly as he let out a short musical laugh at the sight before muttering something to himself.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?", Blaine asked, brow furrowed. He didn't exactly like feeling like this gorgeous man was laughing at him.

"Nothing, nothing, just amused at how the world seems to be really _blunt_ with the signs it throws at you, sometimes. Nevermind that though, it's just been a long week, I don't want to bother you with that... What's your name?"

"Um, Blaine, Blaine Anderson. Yours?"

"Kurt Hummel. Pleasure, I'm sure. Now, I think I need a drink. You wouldn't happen to know what's good here, would you?"

Kurt had his body facing mostly to the counter in front of him but the slight tilt of his shoulder and the angle of his head turned towards Blaine looked irresistibly and naturally flirtatious. Blaine struggled to form words around the sudden nervous knot in his throat. He lowered his gaze to the glass bar top, looking at the glasses on the shelves under it to focus on something- _anything_- other than the man beside him as he spoke.

"Well as it turns out I'm a bit of a regular here, and while the cocktails Thea makes are all _excellent, _I would have to recommend the beer on tap. It's local, very good. Although, if you don't mind my saying, you don't exactly look like the type of guy to throw back a few beers after a long day's work, so maybe you _would _prefer a cocktail? Thea makes a mean martini, although I am quite partial to appletinis myself. I know, talk about a stereotype right? But really-"

Blaine was gesticulating wildly in his nervousness, and it was because he was tracking the nervous movements of his hands with his eyes, willing them to _stop moving,_ that he caught sight of Kurt's shaking shoulders and his tightly pressed lips, covered partially by the back of Kurt's long fingers.

Kurt was laughing at him again. Or trying desperately not to, at least.

"I'm sorry, I tend to ramble and make a complete fool of myself in front of guys as unobtainable as you. If I were a woman my theory would be that this is all a Darwinian thing that will save the world from my complete lack of social skills to be passed onto the next generation, but as I am not-"

"Oh, I can see that you are not."

"-I will simply go back to my apartment and never show my face here again. Shame too, I _just_ found this bar. Oh, there goes my rambling again, gotta go kill myself now. Have a nice life, Kurt! You really should try the beer-"

"Blaine. Stop. Hush up for a second."

Blaine was flushed a bright red as he froze on his spot, standing beside the chair he had just speedily vacated. He was surprised he hadn't dropped dead from mortification half a dozen sentences ago. He dared to look up at Kurt's face, only to find him looking at Blaine with an expression that seemed to be equal parts amusement, endearment and curiosity.

Once again Blaine found himself feeling naked under Kurt's steady gaze, and vulnerable, as though Kurt could see every little layer of Blaine's, layers that Blaine didn't even know he had. Finally, Kurt put Blaine out of his misery.

"I think I would like to try the beer. Care to keep me company? I'm not very fond of drinking by my lonesome."

Blaine stammered a bit before nodding. Kurt simply smiled beautifully at him.

"Excellent. Please sit, Blaine."

This time, Blaine was very aware of his actions as he lowered himself onto the tall bar stool, aware especially of Kurt's eyes on him, as if tracking the movements of a skittish animal.

Blaine certainly felt skittish. He couldn't recall making a bigger fool of himself, let alone having the person he made a fool of himself in front of asking him to stick around. He was about to open his mouth to say something, _anything_, to break the tension between the two of them when Thea appeared in front of them.

"Hello gentlemen! What can I get you tonight?"

Blaine shot her a look of immense gratitude.

"Um, two beers please Thea, from the tap. On my tab."

"Actually, miss, I would like to open a tab myself, please put the beers on mine," Kurt interjected. "I won't take no for an answer, Blaine," he said as Blaine opened his mouth to protest.

"Two beers on the handsome stranger's tab it is then! Coming right up, sorry Blaine!" Thea said with a parting smile and a bounce in her step.

Someone was feeling a little smug.

Once she had gone off to pour the beers Blaine turned to Kurt, his blushing face on his fist and a nervous smile on his lips.

"You really didn't have to do that, in fact I feel as though buying you a beer is the least I could do to make up for my embarrassing display."

Kurt simply smiled and looked straight in front of him.

"Nonsense, I thought it was rather adorable. It's not all that often that I have men as handsome as yourself stumbling over their words to talk to me."

"I find that hard to believe," Blaine replied, looking down at his hands in favour of staring at Kurt's profile. "I bet you have men just _lining _up for your attentions."

"Oh, I do. They just aren't all as bashful or as good looking as you," Kurt said shooting him a wink. "What about you? Your line of desperate men very long these days?"

"Yes, well, unfortunately being averagely good-looking and a bumbling fool is all I have going for me, so my line of pining men is rather short."

"Easier for me to fight my way to the front then."

Blaine was struck dumb at Kurt's aggressive advances. He was such a confident flirt that Blaine couldn't have found a way to brush him off even if he wanted to. Then again he couldn't seem to find a response to _accept _his advances so he was truly indebted to Thea when she reappeared at that moment with their drinks.

"Here we are boys, two beers on the frostiest glasses in the bar. Enjoy!"

She look Blaine a parting look that clearly said "Damn, boy! Get some!", but Blaine chose to ignore her. He took a sip from his beer to post pone having to talk to Kurt, seeing as how talking to him only seemed to lead to embarrassment. Kurt however didn't seem to share his plight.

"You come very often then? I used to come in more frequently but I have been away for the past few months for work. I don't recall having seen you before, though..."

"No, um, I used to go to Barney's? Two blocks down from here? But I used to go with my boyfriend you see, and well, it would just have been too awkward to go back there and see him with his new man... So I had to look for a new bar. Turned out to be a good thing, I suppose. Breaking up with Jeremiah. He found someone better for him, and I found Unmasked and Thea," Blaine shot Kurt a small smile. "And I suppose now I have found this man who bought me a beer."

"I could be more than a man who bought you a beer, you know. I have a hunch that you would enjoy what I have to offer."

Blaine choked on the the beer he was sipping before letting out a short nervous laugh.

"You're very sure of yourself. You manage to get a lot of men in bed with that kind of talk?"

"Yes. Not all of them I bed though. My abilities aren't simply limited to sex, you know. What I do goes a lot further than that," Kurt spoke, never taking his eyes off of Blaine's face, taking in every twitch of Blaine's muscles. Taking in his reaction to his words.

"...What you do? What do you do, Kurt?"

Blaine didn't know what to make of Kurt at this point, but he found himself treading more and more carefully, unsure of what lay behind those piercing blue eyes of his.

"I set people free. I take away all of their worries, all of their stress and responsibilities. I take away all of their duties except for their duties to me."

"Their duties to you?"

"The duties a sub has to their Dom."

Time stood still. Blaine's breath caught in his throat and although a spike of interested arousal shot down his spine, a greater part of Blaine was still in shock.

"A- A Dom? Yo-you're a Dom?"

"Yes, Blaine. I'm a Dom. Do I not look like one? That seems to be the general opinion," Kurt said, eyes slightly hard.

Blaine took him in once more. The perfectly straight back, the carefully styled hair and pressed clothes, the aura of a man completely in control of himself. Yes, Blaine had thought a Dom would generally look different, wear dark eye-make up and glossy latex corsets and leather, but there was no denying that something about Kurt _screamed_ 'I can and will take control. I can and will have you submit to me.'

"No, you do. I believe you."

Kurt smiled a small, pleased smile that _did__ things_ to Blaine.

Things that Blaine was definitely not ready to admit to, or even admit to wanting.

"I don't know why you would think that that's something I would want. I-I mean, no offense to _you_or anything, like, I don't judge you for what you do in your spare time or anything-"

"It's not just something I do in my spare time, Blaine. I do this for a living. I'm a Dom."

"Y-yes, I heard you the first time. But again, I don't know why you think that _I_ woul-"

"You think I look like a Dom right? Well, I think _you_ look like a sub. I think you might not realize it, in fact I'm pretty sure you _don't_ realize it, but you are what I like to call a natural sub. I can see in you, plain as day, the need to _please_ others. I can bet you anything that you were always looking out for your friends and family, doing anything and everything for them, because you are a nice guy, yeah, but also because you _like_ pleasing others. You probably found a job that will let you do that, knowing your type I'd say a lawyer, because being a doctor would mean that failure leads to death and you are too kind, too good to be able to deal with death like that. Yes, definitely a lawyer. But I don't think you're quite there yet are you? Right now you're at the mercy of the higher-ups. The office grunt. And it's driving you crazy, isn't it? They are running you _ragged._I can see that. I can see you _grasping_ at the straws, trying to stay on top of things, trying to _please _everyone still. And I can tell you right now, because I see this _all__ the __time_, you can't keep doing this to yourself. You need to let go. And _I_can help you do that Blaine. I can help you give up control, I can give you someone to focus your natural needs on so that you can manage the rest better. _That's,_what I do, Blaine."

Blaine simply sat there, eyes wide as saucers, a deer caught in headlights.

Kurt's gaze softened.

"That's ok, Blaine. There's nothing to be scared of, or _ashamed_ of. This is what I do, I have to be able to understand people, to see inside of them. That's what makes me so good at what I do. I see what people need and I give it to them. And I would very much like to give you what you need, Blaine Anderson."

"I- I- I don't- I've _never-_I don't _do _this sort of thing, I've no idea-"

"I can teach you. I would love to teach you, Blaine. In fact, nothing would please me more than to help you unlock that part of yourself. Would you like me to, Blaine? There's an entire world for you to discover, an entire sea that I can help you navigate."

Blaine was just openly staring at Kurt, who was staring right back. His eyes were burning right to the core of Blaine. He could feel himself trembling although he couldn't say why. He felt his lips moving, and the words forming in his throat, coming out weak and soft and so much more vulnerable than he would have liked.

"I don't know you, Kurt. How can I trust you not to let me drown?"

"That's the point of this Blaine: trust. Trust and control. What do you think? Is that something you would like?"

Kurt kept his gaze steadfast on Blaine's wide hazel eyes. Blaine could see that this was something that Kurt wanted, and the part of Blaine that he just called him on, the part that wanted to _please_ was quivering in excitement. He so wanted to do this. He wanted it so much. Too much.

"I-I can't, Kurt. I can't. I'm sorry, I just- I don't know you, I don't know _this_, I don't know anything, and- I don't think I'm ready to. If I'll _ever_be ready to, no matter what your hunch is telling you. I'm sorry. I'm gonna go now, it was- nice, meeting you Kurt. Thanks for the drink. I'm gonna go."

Blaine grabbed his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck, quickly but not in the same fervent rush he was in the last time he was trying to flee from Kurt.

Maybe it was because Blaine knew he wasn't fleeing from Kurt but from himself. He turned towards the door when Kurt spoke up.

"Blaine, I get that you might not be ready for this right now. That's fine. But I for one think that one day soon you will be. You will need this. And I want you to know I am here for you. Take my card, Blaine, and call me when you are ready to face this and know that I'll be waiting."

Blaine took the card from Kurt's outstretched hand with trembling fingers. He twirled it in his hand, eyes locked onto it.

"You know, I hear this isn't quite how picking up guys at bars usually goes."

Blaine chanced a glance at Kurt, who was smiling gently at him.

"I hear I'm not a very usual guy."

* * *

><p>Blaine spent the weekend staring at the card.<p>

Not like he just sat there looking at it, he had only done that for about an hour after he had gotten home from Unmasked. But when he went to get coffee the next morning, he looked at it while he waited in line. He stared at it once he got to his seat by the window, computer open on the table in front of him. He looked at it as he waited for the delivery guy to bring him his pizza at lunch. He stared at it during the commercial breaks in the Extreme Couponing marathon on TLC and while he waited for the microwave to re-heat his pizza slices for dinner.

Ha stared at it at night, before going to sleep.

By Sunday, the card was bent and covered in greasy, tomato sauce fingerprints, and the corners were bent like his most beloved ratty paperbacks, and although Blaine knew every character printed on the small business card like he knew he name, he kept staring at it.

It was a very nice card, Blaine thought to himself in the few moments he could logically and abjectly think about the card and not what it meant. On the front, right in the center, it said Kurt Hummel, under which it said Professional Dominant, black print on white. On the back was his phone number, white on black. The paper was heavy and smooth and matte. High quality print.

Blaine lay in bed staring at the card for longer than he usually lingered in bed in the mornings. He was reprimanding himself for his laziness, he knew that he had briefs to go over for work the next day and he had to run errands and go grocery shopping, but it was as though staring at that damned card for the past two days had completely exhausted Blaine. He didn't know how he'd face the week with Kurt's words hanging over him.

Kurt's words. His all too accurate description of Blaine.

Blaine had never held any delusions of being particularly mysterious, in fact nearly everybody in his life made a habit of commenting on how much of an open book he was, but he had never been so completely pegged by a complete stranger before. Kurt had correctly guessed everything about him except for maybe his favourite color and ice cream flavour and his perspicacity scared Blaine.

After all, if he could see everything that he was, surely he could see all the ways Blaine came up short. He could see how to hurt him to the core, how to break him completely.

Blaine couldn't imagine ever letting Kurt in, ever giving him that power. He just couldn't trust him enough, couldn't give up control like that.

_That's the point of this Blaine: trust. Trust and control._

Kurt's words rang out in his mind, the same way they had been ringing out since he had first spoken at Unmasked. Blaine chastised himself for becoming so obsessed with the idea. After all he wasn't a _su-_

Blaine interrupted his own thoughts, unwilling to even entertain the notion of Kurt being right about that particular part of his evaluation of Blaine. He had never even let Jeremiah spank him or-or tie him up! He enjoyed _simple_ sex, straight-forward, two men in a bed, or a shower or a table or even a wall, but why bring in _equipment_, or gags, or paddles or those pretty leather cuffs he had seen online that one tim-

No.

Blaine closed his eyes tightly and breathed deep through his nose. He might have looked up some things when he was still a curious teenager, but he knew better now. He thought of his father's words, his stern voice telling him that being gay was abnormal enough, no need to go and add _deviancy_ to it, words spoken after Blaine had let it slip at dinner one night that a friend had joked about spanking Blaine if he misbehaved during Warbler rehearsal again.

It had been platonic and innocent riling, but his father had been quick to set him straight and dispel any such ideas from even forming in Blaine's brain.

That's why Kurt was wrong. Blaine wasn't a natural..._that_. Blaine had never allowed himself to ever explore that tiny seed of curiosity he had harboured as a young and foolish boy, so surely by now that seed had grown rank and died away. There was no point in getting involved with Kurt, even though Blaine told himself that surely by now he didn't let his father dictate what he could and could not do with his private life.

That thought caused Blaine to open his eyes.

_Was _he still letting his father dictate how Blaine lived his life? He had moved across the entire _country_ to be his own man, free from his father's shadow. Did he still have a hold on him?

Jesus, would his entire life gravitate around his Daddy issues?

Blaine sat up from his bed and reached for the phone that was charging on his night stand. No, Blaine Anderson was going to do whatever he damned well pleased. Even if he wasn't sure that this was something he would like, Blaine thought he owed it to his inner teenager to try it. Following impulses, and rebelling against authority and _fuck __parents _and all that jazz.

When he dialed Kurt he allowed himself the weakness to pretend to need to look at the card for the phone number.

* * *

><p><strong>And there you have it, unbetaed as per usual so forgive the little mistakes I'm sure I would find if I ever re-read my own work. : Review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: So I was going to work on chapter eleven of LoL but having posted this angstier fic, I was in too much of an angsty mood to write the fluff I have planned for 11. Anybody have tips for writing angsty smutty smut and then going right back to cotton candy fluff? I could use the help.**

**If you follow me on Tumblr (danielasaurus) then you know this chapter got a bit out of hand. Here it is in all its 10k glory. **

**_Please don't expect chapters this length from me again._**

* * *

><p>Blaine was sitting at a fancy bistro he had never set foot in before, trying not to bite his nails down to the quick. He was intermittently staring at the ornate clock on the wall facing him, the door to his right, and the menu in his hands, unable to focus on any of these while unable to focus on anything else.<p>

It was 11:57. Kurt was supposed to meet him in three minutes, but Blaine of course had been sitting here since 11:39, having run from the firm at 11:30 on the dot, the start of his lunch hour, and walked briskly to the French restaurant he had Google Mapped and kept open in a tab on his laptop since he hung up with Kurt over 24 hours ago.

Considering the restaurant was only a ten minute walk from his office it might have been surprising that Blaine hadn't ventured into it before, but the truth of the matter was that this place had always kind of _intimidated_ Blaine. The inside was all clean cut white furniture, and smudge free glass tabletops, and Zinc white walls and ceiling, all of which might have easily veered into the clinical but stayed safely on the fashionable side of things. When he wasn't in his work suits, Blaine was a simple jeans and a t-shirt type of guy, no matter how many blazers he wore (and he _had_ worn his fair share of blazers in his time). He simply didn't feel like he _belonged_ in places as fancy as this.

But of course _Kurt_ did. Places like this seemed to be built _specifically_ for the Kurts of the world, although Blaine thought Kurt to be one of a kind.

And speak of the devil, there he was, entering the bistro at 12:00 on the nose. Blaine quickly flagged him down from his spot in the corner, the most secluded table this restaurant offered which Blaine thought to be the most appropriate for the conversation they were about to have.

"Hello, Blaine."

Kurt greeted him calmly as he removed his black peacoat to reveal another three-piece suit, this one being all black with military style buttons on the vest and a dark burgundy dress shirt underneath.

Blaine absentmindedly thought that Kurt looked like a portrait of Lucifer in his own three-piece suit, and he wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he was getting into.

"Did you have trouble finding the place?"

"No, it's actually not very far from my office, I've walked past it enough times to find it easily."

"Good."

Kurt was sitting with his usual perfect posture although he had his legs crossed and his hands in his laps. Blaine instinctively straightened his own spine, feeling like everybody in the restaurant was judging his posture just by sitting alongside Kurt, but knowing intellectually that of the four other people in the bistro, none of them were paying him any attention.

Blaine sat there for a while longer, racking his brain for a way to start this already incredibly awkward conversation, but unable to come up with anything, let alone form the words in his suddenly very dry throat.

"Do I put you ill at-ease, Blaine?"

"Hmm?" Blaine's eyes were round and nervous, while Kurt smiled in a manner that seemed only slightly deprecating.

"You seem a little high-strung, is all."

"Well, it's not everyday I have lunch with a Professional... _Dom,_so you'll have to excuse my less than stellar conversation skills, as I have no _idea_ how to talk about _any_ of-of this."

Kurt frowned slightly at Blaine his lips tensing slightly in disapproval. Blaine shivered slightly at the thought of what Kurt's disapproval could mean in the future.

"Blaine, let me make something very clear: Domming, and subbing, _cannot_ happen without talking about it. Dialogue is the very _foundation_ of a good Dom/sub relationship and if you want you explore this further, you will _have _to talk about it, whether you are comfortable with it at first or not. Although I have to say, if this is really so uncomfortable for you-"

"No!"

Kurt stared, slightly shocked at the sudden outburst. Blaine could feel himself flush with embarrassment from the bottom of his neck to the tip of his ears, but he knew he had to get this out of his system now or he'd never gather the courage to do so again.

"No, I-I mean, _yes,_it may be a little difficult at first, but I want- I want to try this. I wouldn't have called you otherwise. The thing is Kurt, I wasn't kidding when I said that I don't _do_ this kind of thing. I know _nothing _about-about what you _do_, you see, and that includes how to even _talk_ about it. But that doesn't mean I don't want to try. To learn. Because I _do_ Kurt."

Blaine was looking at Kurt with completely open eyes, vulnerability and honesty ringing through with every stumbling syllable uttered. Blaine took a shuddering breath and lowered his gaze for his final admission, unable to face Kurt if he rejected his next words.

"I want to learn... An-And I want you to teach me."

Blaine felt as though his face was hot enough to melt the ice caps. _There,__ I__ laid__ it __all __on __the__ line __and__ now__ he __can __take __it __or__ leave __it. __If __he __leaves __it, __we __never __ever __think __about __this __ever __again._

"That's very good, Blaine. _Very_ good."

Blaine felt himself flush with warmth, although this time, it was an all over, full-body warmth. The same warmth of pleasure Blaine felt when he did something right, but _so,__so_ much more. Because this time he didn't just do something right; he did something right by Kurt.

By his future Dom.

Blaine raised his face and he knew Kurt could see the pleased pink of his face although he held back the giddy smile bubbling up inside of him. He didn't want to make a complete fool of himself in front of Kurt just yet.

Not that he hadn't done so before.

He could see the satisfaction- and even the _pride_- in Kurt's contemplative appraisal of him, and Blaine found himself at a loss for words once again.

"Well, considering you seem to be very sure then, I think we should start off with the basics. I know you say you don't know what being a sub entails but surely you at least know _of_ some of these things? It's not uncommon for couples nowadays to explore a bit of light BDSM in their private lives, light bondage, spanking, sensory deprivation, and such. Any experience in that area?"

"Um, no-not really. I _wanted_ to explore these things when I was younger but my father made his opinion on the matter very clear. Not very supportive of the gay thing to begin with and he seemed to think that anything other than missionary sex would turn me into even _more _of a deviant. Then again even missionary seemed to be a bit too shocking for his sensibilities. Oh God, I'm rambling again, I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize, Blaine. I just said that dialogue is important, nothing you say is wrong. I need you to feel free talking to me about these things, even if these things is about your less-than accepting father. Is that clear, Blaine?"

Kurt seemed to be waiting for an actual verbal reply.

"Yes, Kurt."

"Very good. Now, I believe you were talking about how your Daddy issues have led to your tragically repressed sex life?"

Blaine let out a loud, albeit still slightly embarrassed laughed at Kurt's words and at the completely stone-faced way he delivered them, a tiny quirk of his lips the only hint of the light-hearted way he meant them.

"Yes, well I think you've summed it up pretty well actually. Nothing more to be said really, other than I would like to, um, remedy this 'tragic' situation of mine."

Kurt smiled beatifically at him.

"You've come to the right guy."

* * *

><p>Kurt seemed to realize just how on edge Blaine had been and he had kindly strayed from the difficult topic at hand in favour for some brainless chatter that had Blaine slowly but surely relaxing into his iced tea. They ordered their lunch over easy conversation, mostly chit-chatting about the weather and work (well, Blaine's work), and it was only once Blaine's croque-monsieur and Kurt's blue cheese salad had arrived that Kurt broached the subject once more.<p>

"So let's start off easy. Do you know about safe-words?"

Blaine paused mid-chew, then finished his bite and swallowed a sip of tea to gather his wits about him. He really _did_ want to be able to talk about this stuff but 24 years of repression are hard to overwrite over the course of one meal.

"Yes, they're words that you use to let the other person know you want the to stop, right?"

"That's right. Now, in my case I like using a series of words: a go-ahead word, a pause or slow down but don't outright stop word and of course the full stop word. I find the Stop-Light system works best since it doesn't matter how wrecked you are, the words and the colors have had ingrained meaning since childhood. Do you think that you would be okay with that?"

Blaine looked down to his food and thought it over quickly. Yes, it seemed like a pretty simple system, not really prone to any confusion on either of their part.

"Yes, that sounds fine. Just- can I ask a question?"

"Of course, Blaine, I've said it before and I will say it again and again until it sticks: discussion is important. If you have questions then it is of the utmost importance that you ask them before getting into this. This isn't child's play."

Blaine flushed a little at having Kurt repeat this over and over.

"Well the thing is, why are there even safe words? I mean, if I say stop, won't you stop? What if I forget the safe-word? Will you just keep going until you hear it?"

Kurt smiled at him.

"Well if we were playing out a scene that involved simulated rape for example, you would want to be into the scene, that means pleading, and saying 'stop' although in reality you mean 'keep going'. Sometimes when people get lost in a scene they'll say stop but they won't mean it. People say things they don't mean all the time, especially in the heat of the moment. However, I would only disregard you saying 'no' and 'stop' if we had discussed it before hand. If we were doing a scene that wouldn't involve dub-con—_dubious __consent_—then I will pause when you say 'stop' and ask you if you want to safe-word or what color you were at."

"Wait, so if you ask me to safe-word then it isn't the same as the color, stop-light system thingy?"

"No, the safe-word is usually a word that wouldn't come up in a sexual situation and red doesn't really fall into that category."

Blaine raised his eyebrows.

"You talk colour theory in bed often?"

Kurt smirked.

"Of course, I do. I'm actually quite fond of commenting on the particular shade of red that adorns pretty little asses like yours after a nice spanking session."

If Blaine had had any food in his mouth he's pretty sure he would've choked to death at that.

"Breathe, Blaine."

Blaine drew in a deep breath and pushed aside all of the unbidden thoughts that came into his head at Kurt's words. He shifted slightly in his seat, hoping the edge of his blazer would mask the physical evidence of his response to them.

Kurt only smiled further at his fidgeting, smile growing sexy and dangerous.

Or maybe it was just dangerous and Blaine found that irresistibly sexy.

"Do you like that? What was it you liked Blaine, the dirty talk or the imagery I provided?"

Blaine blushed at being caught out, lamenting once again how well Kurt seemed to have a read on him.

"I don't know what you mea-"

Kurt interrupted him with a loud reprimanding 'tsk' sound. Kurt's eyes maintained their dangerous gleam.

"Now, I've been patient because you are very new to this, but I will have you know that I do not like repeating myself, in fact if I have to repeat myself, bad little subs have to be punished. I will say this _one __more __time_ before there are consequences to your disobedience: discussion is primordial. I ask a question, you answer it. _You_ ask a question, _I_ answer it. Is that understood, Blaine?"

"Ye-yes, Kurt."

"Good. Now, do I have to ask you again or will you tell me which of the two it was that aroused you?"

A small voice replied, seemingly outside of Blaine's free will.

"Both."

Kurt's eyes softened the slightest bit, although they now seemed half-lidded with lust.

"That's very good, Blaine."

Blaine was thrown so thoroughly for a loop for this conversation that it seemed as though his body had taken over and his brain had stopped working. Automatically, without any thought, Blaine _preened_ over Kurt's compliments.

"Now, usually I would ask you what your limits are and what fetishes don't do it for you, but considering you know nothing about this then I propose something a little different. I won't list off all the things we could do today over lunch because I think it might scare you off so instead, you come over to mine once or twice a week and we slowly explore your kinks."

"Wait, I thought you said we had to talk about everything?" Blaine looked slightly panicked at the thought that Kurt could just change the rules as he pleased.

"Oh, of _course_ we'll talk about it, but we'll do so only a short while before we play, that way you won't let your repression and insecurities get the best of you and run away from me forever."

Kurt was smiling benignly but his eyes had become dangerously sharp again.

"Why do I get the feeling you are doing this to trap me, so I can't run away?"

Kurt smiled widely.

"That's because I am. I just caught myself a very skittish boy, I'm not gonna let him get away from me easily. Do you have a problem with that, Blaine?"

Blaine swallowed thickly.

"No, I don't."

"Good boy."

* * *

><p>Back at his apartment that night, Blaine let himself go over his lunch with Kurt.<p>

He had had to put it out of mind at work after he photocopied the wrong brief 156 times over lest he be fired.

He lay in bed in his old Dalton issue flannel pajama pants and and old raggedy Henley, one hand tucked under his head and the other rubbing up his abdomen, rucking up his shirt, in a comforting gesture he had always done when deep in thought.

After Kurt had essentially admitted to wanting to trap Blaine (_why__ did __he __like __the __thought?)_ they had finished up their lunch and Kurt had told Blaine to meet him at his apartment the next Friday night, writing his address on the back of a napkin.

Kurt had picked up the tab. Blaine didn't know why that did something to him.

_Well, __maybe, __genius, __is __because__ that __would __be __the __first __time__ your __date __picked __up __the __tab. __Not__ counting__ the _last _time __Kurt __picked__ up __the__ tab __when __he __bought __you __a__ drink._

Blaine's lips quirked in a sad frown. Back home, the two boys he had briefly dated knew he came from old money; the name Anderson held weight back home. So they had just assumed that Blaine would pay. Not that Blaine had minded obviously, he liked taking care of others...

_But it felt nice. Being taken care of instead._

He thought then of Jeremiah, who had never picked up a check, or even tried to past the first time he attempted to half-heartedly fight Blaine for it and Blaine had told him that money was not exactly an issue for him. Jeremiah, who Blaine had let move in with him after only a few months of knowing each other, for no rent. Blaine wondered morosely what Jeremiah ever did with his paychecks back then, if he had used the money to pick up the checks for tall, pale boys like the one he caught him with. If he had only been a sad excuse for a sugar daddy all along.

Blaine rolled over to his side and pulled his knees up to his chest. This entire thing had him feeling as though he was 16 again, naïve, and putting on a brave face although he had no idea what was going on, or how to deal with it. He felt like he was lost at sea, caught in the middle of the storm that was Kurt.

Hurricane Kurt.

Just like he had done with the address for the bistro last Sunday, Blaine had Google Mapped Kurt's apartment building first thing when he got home, and the tab was open still and if Blaine was honest with himself it would probably remain open until that Friday night.

Just like he had done with his business card, Blaine spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the little map on his screen. He had mapped out the different ways he could get there, how long it would take him with each.

A 43 minute walk.

A 13 minute drive with traffic.

A 12 minute trip with public transportation.

Blaine shut his eyes tightly and tried to stop his heart from pounding straight out of his chest at the thought of Kurt being so close to him. He tried to stop himself from altering the trajectory of his weekend runs in his mind so he would jog past Kurt's house. He tried to stop himself from imagining what Kurt would to him if he simply showed up, filthy and sweaty from his run, on his doorstep. He tried not to imagine Kurt whispering things in his ear that were filthier than Blaine could ever be.

He tried and failed. For the first time, Blaine touched himself to the thought of another man talking dirty to him while he fucked him against a wall.

To the thought of Kurt telling him about all the fantastically dirty things he was going to do to him if he was a good boy.

Blaine couldn't remember ever coming harder in his life.

* * *

><p>Blaine walked into Unmasked that Thursday more wound up than he had even been on his first time there, after having gone for a month without a relaxing drink. Although he usually went to the bar on Fridays but Blaine had <em>plans<em> on Friday.

Plans he needed to steel himself for with a stiff drink.

"Hey handsome! Fancy seeing you in here on a Thursday! I thought that privilege was reserved for Tuesdays and Fridays only! Couldn't go another day without seeing my beautiful face, right?"

Blaine's tense shoulders immediately dropped at the sound of Thea's bubbly voice, her particular brand of happy wiping the worries from his mind like no one else could.

"Thea! I thought Ryan worked Thursdays, what happened?"

Thea rolled her eyes in fond exasperation, the way she always did when she talked about her co-worker.

"He had a 'totally important date' with what could very well be 'The One'. Honestly, after all the times he's pulled that one you'd think I'd be used to it. Or that he would have found this damned 'One' by now! Oh well, though. I've got bills to pay so I'm not complaining! What about you? What brings you here on a Thursday?"

Blaine let himself collapse on the bar stool and buried his face in his hands. He thought back to Tuesday evening where the bar had been invaded by the local university's rugby team after a big win. Thea had been too busy to stop and chatter much with Blaine and he had been able to brush off her concern over his slightly haggard appearance with a gesture of his hand. Later on when she had been able to talk for a bit, Blaine's spirits had been lifted by talking to the guys from the rugby team and watching them make one of their teammates (who had scored his first goal, or touchdown or something) to drink the traditional beer straight from his dirty cleat, and they had basically spent the night poking fun at the guys and commenting on the cuter ones. But today, no amount of rugby players could distract Blaine from the nerves eating away at him.

"Thea, I have to tell you something, and I need you to not freak out. In fact, I need you to remain very impassive, for the sake of my sanity. Can you do that?"

Thea looked on at him with a slight frown at Blaine's serious expression.

"Sure, Blainey, what is it?"

Blaine took in a deep breath.

"Ok well, remember the guy I talked to last Friday? At the end of the bar? Well..." Blaine paused, wondering how much he should censor this story. "He gave me his number, and I called him on Sunday, and then we met for a lunch on Monday to see if we were both still interested and to talk a little and now I'm meeting him tomorrow at his apartment and I am just, _so nervous _Thea, you have _no idea_ how daunting this entire thing is-"

Thea let out a sympathizing laugh that just sounded delighted that Blaine had boy trouble that didn't involve his scumbag ex.

"Blaine, he's just a _guy, _you don't need to be so nervous!"

"But he's not! Thea, he isn't _like _any other guy I've ever dated! He's not like any guy I've ever _met!_ Just, he is so far out of my league Thea, he's is just light years away from me on like, _every level, _but for some reason he seems like he's actually _interested in me, _and I just don't know what to do with myself! It's like, I _know _he can do just, _so much better. _Is it selfish of me to still-"

Blaine was stopped mid-sentence by Thea's small hand slapping him in the face.

"Stop it! Stop that, right the fuck now! You are amazing. Do you hear me? You are seriously the nicest, smartest, sexiest, _friendliest _guy in my life, in this bar, in this entire damn city probably! You are amazing and I am lucky to count myself as your friend. So, as your friend, I command you to shut the fuck up, immediately!"

Blaine was staring at her wide-eyed before he snapped out of the daze Thea had put him in and broke out in the widest grin Blaine had probably smiled since his time with the Warblers. Maybe even ever.

He just happened to be crying a little at the same time.

Thea jumped up and threw her arms around his neck over the tall bar, and Blaine immediately wrapped his arms around her small frame, holding her suspended a good two feet from the floor, smiling into her neck. He held her for a long moment before finally setting her down carefully. He saw that there were tears in the corners of her big blue eyes and he gave a little laugh as he wiped them and she wiped his.

"You realize you're probably my best friend this side of America, right?"

Thea gave a small watery laugh at that.

"Yeah well, same for me. Sucks to be you. Oh my- Oh my God Blaine, speak of the Devil! Oh, wh-"

Blaine looked over to where Thea had pointed to before covering her mouth only to find Kurt walking in the bar with a tall brunette. The guy must have had almost a foot over Blaine, and Kurt was looking at him with a face more open and joyous than he had ever seen it.

Blaine was seeing red, jealousy coursing through his veins. Before he could think it through, Blaine was standing from his stool and stalking over to Kurt. As he got closer he started to hear bits and pieces of his conversation with this _Finn_ guy, although half a reprimand was all he heard before Kurt stopped his sentence, finding his arm being grabbed by a once again nervous looking Blaine.

Blaine shot Finn a small scowl before turning big hazel eyes to a shocked looking Kurt.

"H-Hi, Kurt. I just-um, I saw you from the bar and I, well I wanted to- to see if we were still on for tomorrow. Your place, 7 o'clock?"

Blaine's eyes flickered to the tall Finn guy before turning back up to meet Kurt's amused blue-green ones. He brought one hand up to Blaine's head and gently placed it atop his gelled curls, they way one would a small child or a dog. Blaine was torn between finding it comforting and being embarrassed at his completely uncalled for bout of jealousy.

"Of course, we're still on for tomorrow, Blaine. In fact, I was just telling my _brother _Finn here about this adorable guy I met at this very bar and the beer he recommended I try. Finn, this is Blaine."

Blaine suddenly wasn't torn between being comforted and being embarrassed; he settled instead for being completely mortified.

"Yo-your brother, Finn. Finn, your brother. Of course, I'm sorry it's just you two don't look a _thing_ alike..."

"Yeah, Kurt here and I are step-bros. His dad and my mom got married like, 8 years ago-"

"Nine, Finn. Seriously, their anniversary was like two months ago!"

"Right, well, yeah, whatever. Nice to meet ya Blaine. Wanna join us for a drink? Come on, take a seat!"

Finn was smiling hugely at him as though nothing would make him happier than to have a drink with him, and normally he would have loved to sit and talk with him but right now his body was screaming at him to get the hell away from Kurt before he made an even bigger ass of himself.

"Gee, I'd love to but I really don't think-"

"Nonsense, Blaine, come have a drink. You were such good company last time."

"Kurt, I really think I should be going, I-"

"_Blaine_. Sit."

Blaine was going to argue some more but Kurt's tone left no room for discussion. He was suddenly reminded of what Kurt had said at lunch that Monday.

_I do not like repeating myself, in fact if I have to repeat myself, bad little subs have to be punished._

A shiver ran down Blaine's spine, whether from arousal, trepidation or anticipation, he couldn't yet tell.

"...Alright."

Blaine took a seat at Kurt's side, sinking into the comfortable plush of the red velvet seat.

"Very good then. Now, beers for everybody?"

* * *

><p>The next day, at exactly 6:58pm, Blaine was standing in front of Kurt's apartment door, trying desperately not to hyperventilate and pass out at Kurt's doorstep.<p>

_He's just a guy, he's just a guy, he's just a guy, he's just a guy._

This had become his mantra after last night. At first Blaine had scoffed at Thea's words, true, but after a few rounds of beer with the Hummel-Hudson brothers, Blaine found it slightly more believable and reassuring a phrase.

They had talked for about an hour or so, mostly about Finn's job working at their dad's tire shop, and the old man's general health. Blaine mostly sat there while the brothers caught up on the happenings in Lima, Ohio, sharing a laugh when they realized Blaine had lived a mere two hours away from them back in high school.

"That's awesome man! What a small world!"

Finn had been great fun to hang out with, his easy going nature putting Blaine completely at ease himself, something he hadn't expected to be able to do in Kurt's presence for a long time still.

Overall Blaine thought that the pros of his decision to walk over to Kurt to stake his claim, far outweighed the cons of being embarrassed to death for it. The only awkward moment after the initial malaise was when Finn asked Kurt how his job at the fashion house was doing and Kurt answered with a tight fake smile that Blaine was surprised Finn didn't see through.

So Kurt's family didn't know about his job then. Blaine didn't know what to make of that since Kurt had never seemed the type to hide who he was.

Maybe the exception was telling your parents that you dominate people for a living.

Which brought Blaine back to his present situation. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was now 6:59. Blaine had just under 60 seconds to gather his courage and knock at the damn door before he was officially late to his... whatever this was, with Kurt.

"_So you said that when you um, do this stuff, you call it playing? Like a scene in a play?"_

"_Precisely, or it can also be used like playing a game, but I usually use it that way for a different type of situation. In a scene you're usually acting something out, but when you use it in the sense of playing a game then the game is the entire concept of Domming and subbing, and everything that encompasses it. It's just semantics really. In any case 'play' is the standard word for it."_

"_So... since you do this as a living, do people just call you and ask to play?"_

_Kurt laughed a little._

"_Well sometimes, nowadays I mostly work through my website though. That way I can screen my clients without having to meet them first, which is important in terms of safety. If I conclude that they're unlikely to be axe murderers then I book them for a first meet and then a session."_

"_Does it pay well? Oh my God, I'm sorry, that's probably completely out of line-"_

_Kurt laughed again and Blaine took a bite of his croque-monsieur just to stop the word vomit from coming out of his mouth._

"_That's fine, my rates are online anyway, so it's not very out of line. Consultations are 50$ and after that every session is 200$ an hour, with a minimum of one hour per session. Usually I'll have three or four sessions a day."_

_Blaine choked on his food. Kurt reached over to pat him on the back, his face looking both amused and slightly concerned._

"_Don't die on me now."_

"_Kurt! That's at least 600$ a day!"_

"_Well actually, sessions usually run more than one hour so it averages out to about 900$ a day, but yeah. Lucrative business. Then again, I didn't always charge so much but I have the reputation of being very good at what I do, so I can afford to charge what I please."_

"_So... we're having a session on Friday."_

"_You could say that, yes."_

"_Kurt, I need to tell you right now, I come from money and my job at the law firm pays well but I can't affo-"_

"_Blaine, please. This isn't a job for me, I'm doing this for my own pleasure, on my own time. I picked you up at a bar remember? Let's not sully this with money."_

"_Says the man making a third of a million dollars a year."_

"_Well I do take holidays Blaine, I'm not a work mule. With the cost of the gifts my clients give me I actually bank somewhere closer to a quarter million a year."_

"_Gifts?"_

"_I have a wish list on my website."_

It was now 7:00. Kurt was a very punctual man if his perfectly timed arrival at the restaurant on Monday was anything to go by. If Blaine wanted to make a good impression for once, now would be the time the man up and knock on the door.

"You know, I can _hear_ your brain working through the door, Blaine. You can knock on the door, I'm not going to eat you."

Well there went his chance at making a good impression. Blaine raised his hand and knocked timidly on the wood three times. Kurt immediately swung the door open at the sound.

"Good evening, Blaine. Did you have a hard time finding the place?"

_No, in fact I figured out over half a dozen ways to get to your house._

"N-no, I found it fine."

"Good, come in then," Kurt said shifting his body to the side to allow Blaine entrance to his apartment. The door opened directly into a spacious and very open living room. The far wall was completely comprised of floor to ceiling windows, giving whoever stood in front of them a brilliant view of the New York night time. Gauzy curtains were hanging over several intervals along the wall, waiting to be drawn for privacy although considering the height at which the apartment was, a helicopter flying by would be more likely to be able to peer into the living room than anything else.

In a corner of the room, on top of a raised portion of the floor, was a gleaming black baby grand with some sheet music spread out over the closed top, and Blaine suddenly found himself itching to try it out. The last time he had played piano since leaving home in Ohio was when he and Jeremiah had visited a music store about 8 months ago and Blaine tried out the instruments for fun, but Jeremiah didn't like Blaine drawing so much attention to himself and soon enough made them leave.

At the center of the room were some cream coloured leather couches and love seats, facing a large television and entertainment center at the opposite end of the glass wall. On the far right wall was an electric fireplace that burned softly and added warmth to the place.

All in all it was the most tastefully designed room Blaine had ever set foot in, and he had grown up in a house that his mother paid interior decorators thousand of dollars to redo every year. It was exactly the kind of place he would have imagined Kurt lived in if he had had the creativity and the flair to think up an apartment such as this.

"Have a seat Blaine, I'll get us something to drink. Would you like anything in particular?"

Blaine turned to Kurt, who was patiently standing at the door while Blaine had his look-around.

"A beer?"

"Sorry, as a rule neither I nor the sub can be in an altered state of mind before a session. Can I offer you an iced tea instead?"

Blaine flushed a little before saying yes, tea would be lovely, and taking a seat on the near end of the couch. As he waited for Kurt to return his their drinks, Blaine took off his jacket, scarf and gloves and took some steadying breaths. The pep-talks he had been giving himself all week were seeming weaker and weaker as every second ticked by and the reality that Blaine was _actually going to do this_ sank in. Before Blaine could whip himself into a true frenzy over this, Kurt strolled in carrying a silver tray with to tall glasses of iced tea in them. On the tray was also a small dish of lemon slices, a sugar bowl and coasters.

"I make the iced tea myself, so it might be a little bitter for your taste since I don't add the pound of sugar commercial brands are fond of adding to iced tea. Feel free to add some sugar to your liking however, I won't take offense."

Blaine reached out for the tea and brought it up to his lips for a sip before deciding whether or not it really needed sugar, only to find it pleasantly tart. He reached instead for a lemon slice which he dropped into his drink.

"It's delicious, Kurt. And your place, it's absolutely lovely Kurt, I can't even begin to tell you how beautifully decorated I find it."

"Thank you, I did that myself too. Decorating and designing were always big passions of mine, so I wasn't about to let some fool of an overpaid designer ruin the beauty of the apartment by letting him do whatever he wanted to it."

Blaine was staring at Kurt mouth agape by this point.

"Is there anything you can't do Kurt?"

Kurt laughed at that.

"There's some things although I do make it a habit of trying to excel at everything I try my hand at. Vestiges of my teenage years when I felt I had to _prove_ to everybody just how much better I was than them."

"I get that, being gay in Ohio, you sort of _have_ to make yourself feel accomplished and talented, otherwise it's to easy to let the ignorants get the best of you."

Kurt looked at Blaine as though he had said something astounding before smiling softly, softer and truer than Blaine had ever seen it outside of talking with Finn maybe.

"Exactly."

There was a slight lull in the conversation as they smiled at each other and drank their tea, before Kurt cleared his throat and set his glass down.

"Now, I know we talked about the Stop-Light system over lunch on Monday, but we never got down to picking a safe-word. Is there any that comes to mind right now? Anything that you've thought up during the week?"

Blaine followed Kurt's example and set his glass down on a coaster before folding in hands in his lap.

"Yes, uh, I was thinking Dalton."

"Hmm... I think that's okay but I would rather you pick something that is more unlikely to come up during a scene."

Blaine shot Kurt a bewildered look.

"Kurt, I hardly think I'm going to start talking about my high school in the middle of sex or whatever it is we'll be doing."

"Do you still have your uniform, Blaine?"

"Well, yeah, why do you ask?"

Kurt shot him a look that clearly said he was judging him a bit for not catching on.

"What if we're playing a scene involving you in a school boy uniform? If we're gonna be playing out high school fantasies then the name of your high school would be an unsuitable safe-word. Try again."

"Oh. Ok. Um-" Blaine tried desperately to think up a word but Kurt had unfortunately seemed to fry his brain with the possibility of Blaine wearing his old Dalton uniform for a session. Blaine didn't have a clue that he could find the idea of it so erotic. "Warblers?"

"As in The Dalton Academy Warblers? Blaine, no, same as before. Now, try again, something completely random, first thing that comes to mind."

"Uh, armadillo."

Kurt let out a small chuckle.

"Really, Blaine? _That's _the first word that came to mind?"

"Is it not okay either? I'm sorry, I'll-"

"No, no Blaine, that's fine, 'armadillo' is a perfectly fine safe-word, it's about as unlikely to come up during sex as anything can get. I'm just curious as to how that brain of yours operates that _armadillo_ of all things is the first thing that comes to mind. Now that that's settled we can move on to titles. Usually, during a scene the sub won't refer to his Dom by first name, titles are used. Unless we're playing out a particular fantasy where specific titles are used, such as 'Teacher' or 'Professor' to go back to the previous example, I go by Master or Sir. Are you comfortable with calling me that?"

Blaine uttered a yes through too-dry lips.

"Very good. Okay, so we've covered titles and safe-words, so we still need to talk about other safe practices and then we'll discuss what I have planned for tonight. Are you still with me, Blaine?"

"Ye-yes."

"Alright then. Now You know that safe-words are used when you want to game to stop, or to slow down and I know you understand the Stop-Light system, but I need you to _really_ understand that you are not just free to safe-word whenever you need it, you are _obligated_ to safe-word when you need it. No matter what we are doing, no matter if we are in the middle of an otherwise good time or you are being punished or _whatever_, you will _never _be reprimanded or punished for stopping me. Can I trust you to use your safe-words?"

Blaine sat back and thought about it seriously. He couldn't envision himself _not _stopping Kurt if things went too far for him but out of respect for the situation he tried to give it some real thought.

"Yes, Kurt, you can trust me to safe-word." At this, Blaine quirked his lips. "I thought this entire thing was just about me trusting you?"

Kurt smiled a little sadly, as though remembering something painful and Blaine was sad to have put that look on his face.

"No, trust is a two way thing. Now, there are times where you won't be able to properly safe-word, so I have other measures set in place. If you have a gag in place and you can't formulate words I want you to hum. It doesn't have to be any specific song, or even on-key, just hum something remotely melodic and I will stop. Okay?"

"Okay."

Blaine tried not to look like he was still stuck on the visual of Kurt gagging him.

"Okay now there might be times you _can't _hum, say if we're doing some breathplay, so I'll need you to tap me out. Three consecutive taps followed by a grip, otherwise it could be mistaken for something else. If your hands are tied then I need you to blink in the same pattern; three deliberate blinks followed by closing your eyes tightly. If we're doing breathplay I never allow for too much sensory deprivation, just as a safety measure: if you're blindfolded then your arms are free, if you're tied up then your eyes are uncovered. Is that clear? Repeat the safety measures back to me."

"If I'm g-gagged, I hum a song, if I can't hum I tap you three times then grip you, if I can't tap you I blink three times and shut my eyes. But um, Kurt?"

"Yes, Blaine?"

"What do you _mean _by breathplay?"

"Oh, that's just common jargon for erotic-asphyxiation. Cutting off air supply during sex. It can be done by choking or otherwise constricting the air pipes, putting pressure on the chest, gas masks or plastic bags, or such, but I don't use plastic bags as a general rule. Too dangerous."

Blaine felt light-headed all of a sudden. This one Blaine _really _couldn't wrap his head around.

"Ch-choking? But _why?"_

"Well when your air supply is being limited you experience a light-headedness which some find contributes to the orgasm. When done right, breathplay can lead the system into a state of almost survival, and it sends adrenaline coursing through the system, making the experience sharper, feeling things to their full extent. It's actually quite pleasant, but more than that it's what I like to think of as the absolute trust exercise. You are _literally_ putting your neck on the line, your life in somebody else's hands and trusting them to keep you alive and to make the experience pleasurable. Complete trust and control are necessary to safely try erotic-asphyxiation, that's why I don't do it with clients that aren't regulars. Are you alright, Blaine?"

Blaine was having air troubles of his own as he couldn't regulate the quick shallow breaths he was taking. Oh God, he was having an anxiety attack. Suddenly, there were two hands cupping his face, and Kurt's face swam into focus. Blaine's wild eyes locked onto Kurt's calm ocean blues.

"Blaine, I need you to listen to me. I need you to try to breath. Do as I do, alright? Inhale. Exhale. Slowly, at the same pace as I."

Blaine looked on at Kurt who was breathing deliberately, with exaggerated nose flaring and chest expansions. Blaine tried to imitate him.

"That's right, very good Blaine, try again. Deeply in, and out."

Blaine couldn't have told how much time he spent with Kurt gently cradling his face in his hands, trying to breathe in sync before the thick anxious fog dissipated from his brain. They breathed slowly for a few more moments before Kurt spoke.

"That's very good, Blaine. You did very good, beautiful."

It was the first time Kurt had used a term of endearment or a pet name since the first time Kurt had called him a good boy at the bistro. Blaine sagged in Kurt's grasp. When he spoke up it was in a soft vulnerable voice that almost broke Kurt's heart.

"I don't think I'm ready for breathplay, Kurt. I'm sorry."

Kurt's eyebrows took on an endeared slant and he began stroking the cheekbones beneath his hands with his thumbs.

"Oh, beautiful, you have nothing to apologize for. Breathplay is a very hard limit, one that even I wouldn't feel comfortable trying with you any time soon. When we spend time together I _will_ be pushing you to try new things, and to push your own limits to the max, but I promise you right here and now, I will never push breathplay on you, okay? If you ever want to try it, no matter how many months or years into the future, _you_ will be the one to bring it up, alright?"

Blaine's breath hitched a little at the cavalier way Kurt talked about them months or years from now, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Okay. Thank you, Kurt."

"I'm your Dom, Blaine. You never have to thank me for respecting your limits."

* * *

><p>After Blaine had calmed down, Kurt had asked Blaine if he wanted to call it a night. Several times over actually, but Blaine was determined to follow through. He couldn't leave Kurt's apartment with only the memory of a panic attack and Kurt's words. He needed to go through with this or he might never bring himself to come back.<p>

So now they found themselves in what Kurt had called his play room.

"_The term dungeon is so _drab_, don't you think?"_

Blaine didn't have any real point of contention with the term either way, but he could see how this room didn't really fit into what he would have thought a dungeon would look like. The color of the walls was a light cream but in every corner was a bunched up black velvet curtain, with a suspension system that ran along the entire span of the walls.

"_For easy redecoration; I'm partial to light colours myself but some of my clients prefer the more classic black look. And who am I to deny them?"_

Along one of the walls was a table, a large wooden X fixture- a St-Andrew's Cross, Kurt had called it- and a spanking the opposite wall was a throne-like chair, several cushions and what looked to be a large dog-bed. One of the other two walls was barren except for metal rings and bars at different heights and the last one held three dark wood armoires. Blaine wanted to ask what each of them contained but he was rendered mute by the sudden onslaught of nerves. When Kurt had told him what he had planned for tonight, he hadn't been all that worried.

"_You said you liked the idea of spanking, so for tonight I thought we could have a simple spanking session. I will be using a paddle but not a hard wooden one or a studded one for your first time, just a supple leather one. The game starts the second we set foot in the room. Is that okay with you?"_

Yes, it had definitely been okay with Blaine. But now, faced with the reality of it and being in the room, Blaine was wondering if he should have thought this through a little better.

He was waiting for Kurt to come back. He had gone to get changed, although Blaine had told him he had no preference as to what he wore.

"_It's best that I have an outfit for play time and a different one for off time, at least at first, so that you can clearly disassociate the two. Unless we are in a full-time D/s relationship it's bad to have a power bleed in the relationship. No matter what we do in play time, off time is a relationship of equals."_

He had told Blaine to take of his shirt, pants, shoes and socks and to hang them in the third, smaller armoire along the wall, but he had only gotten so far as taking off his shoes and socks before his fingers started trembling too much. His shirt was half unbuttoned when Kurt walked into the room.

He looked amazing. He was wearing tight leather pants that molded to the shape of his legs, accentuating their slimness and their length. He had on some knee-high lace-up black combat boots and a black leather shrug that emphasized the broadness of his shoulders and the length of his neck and arms.

His torso was bare from two inches before his nipples to his hipbones, and Blaine couldn't stop staring a the pale, perfect expanse of skin before him. Kurt was tutting disapprovingly at him.

"Now, I thought I made myself perfectly clear when I said I wanted you in your underwear when I came back into the room. Disobeying already? Good little pets should know better. Strip by the time I count to ten and I might go easy on you. One, Two, Three..."

It was only when Kurt raised an eyebrow at him on Three that Blaine snapped out of his stupor and began unbuttoning his shirt like his life depended on it, quivering fingers be damned.

"...Six, Seven..."

Blaine chucked off his now opened shirt before undoing his pants and sliding them down his hips. He cursed himself for wearing such tight pants as they clung to his skin and took up more time than he would have liked with an undershirt still to go.

"...Ten. Oh, dear."

Blaine stood in the middle of the room, discarded jeans pooling at his feet where he had kicked them off, next to his now wrinkled shirt. The thin cotton tee was still on him.

"Looks like somebody _wants_ to be punished, because surely _my_ sub wouldn't be such a bad boy. Pick up your clothes, pet."

Blaine flushed and picked up the clothes. He had them gathered in a bunch in his arms as he looked on at Kurt, eyes wide.

"Well? Put them away, _Blaine._"

Blaine didn't know why but he didn't like that Kurt had used his name, it felt like a reprimand all its own. He wasn't a good enough sub to be called one.

Blaine hurried to hang up his clothes in the closet, after which he shut the doors to it and turned around, leaning against them, head bowed and arms behind him.

"Pet knows he has been bad, doesn't he? Just look at him, head down, waiting for his punishment like a good little boy. Come here, beautiful."

Blaine took three steps forward on shaky legs until he was standing directly in front of Kurt. He kept his gaze instinctively lowered, looking at Kurt's shoes.

"Now, somebody is still wearing more clothes than good little subs are allowed," Kurt hooked a slim finger on the bottom of the t-shirt. "Take it off. Slowly."

Kurt took a step back so that he could watch him.

Blaine finally looked up to find Kurt staring at him expectantly. He crossed his arms and grabbed the hem of the shirt at his hips and lifted the shirt as slowly as he could, not breaking eye-contact with Kurt until the shirt was over his head. Once freed from it, Blaine looked at Kurt again, only to find him looking pleased and aroused. Blaine realized that his breath was already coming out in short pants and that he was half-hard in his dark blue boxer briefs.

"Good boy."

Blaine let out a small, almost silent whimper.

"Now, don't think this means you won't be punished for being disobedient. Since you were so good just now, I will be gracious and allow you to choose where you will be spanked, either over the knee, on the bench or against a wall. You will thank me for being so benevolent."

Blaine realized that he was expected to speak for the first time of the session. He gulped before speaking.

"Yes, Sir. Ag-agaisnt the wall, please, Master. Thank You for being so benevolent."

If Blaine wasn't panting with arousal before, he certainly was now. There was no way he could have anticipated the sensuous ease with which the words flowed from his tongue, nor the spike of hot arousal and submission that shot through him once uttered. Blaine was already achingly hard and Kurt hadn't even touched him yet.

_Oh, God, why did I deprive myself this for so long?_

"Very good, pet, against the wall it is. Turn around, face the wall, palms flat, feet apart, ass out."

The series of commands rang out in Blaine's ears and he was almost tripping over himself to execute them. He was facing the wall with the rings, arms outstretched and locked before him, feet shoulder width apart, ass presented to Kurt. Blaine was covered with a light sheen of sweat as his body was completely overheated with arousal.

Suddenly he felt the cool leather of Kurt's boots kicking gently at the inside of his feet, spreading his legs wider and wider until Blaine was almost straining with the effort.

It felt wonderful.

"Much better. Now, let's see what we're working with here, shall we?"

Kurt hooked his fingers over the back of the elastic band of his briefs and pulled them down until they rested just under Blaine's cheeks, defining their round fullness and almost lifting them. Blaine shivered at the mental image of him.

Kurt hummed happily at the sight as he rubbed his palms over them. He slapped one cheek lightly and Blaine let out a tiny moan he hoped Kurt hadn't heard.

"Oh my, lucky me, I have a beautiful new ass to play with. I think it would look even better a nice shade of red though, don't you agree?"

"Yes, please, Master."

"Hmm, so eager! Well pet, I'm not gonna keep you waiting much longer."

With a parting squeeze to both cheeks, Kurt turned to the middle armoire and grabbed a paddle from the door. Blaine could briefly see that it was about a foot long with the handle, black fur on one side and smooth leather on the other.

Blaine was practically vibrating with anticipation. His knees buckled slightly when he felt Kurt running the furry side of the paddle over the sensitive flesh at the back of his thighs and his ass.

Suddenly a slap rang out in the air. Blaine registering the sound before the sharp flare of pain. He let out a loud moan once it did.

"Oh, and such a beautiful reaction too! I really am lucky to own such a pet aren't I?"

Kurt slapped his other cheek before Blaine could formulate a response or even figure out if he was expected to. Once again Blaine let out a soft moan at the sensation, one moan becoming a succession of sounds as Kurt kept smacking him lightly with the paddle.

Blaine felt like he was melting, while Kurt kept humming happily behind him.

"Hmm, well I think that's enough fun for now, this is meant to be a punishment! Somebody has been a very bad boy. I think twenty smacks should be fair, no?"

"Wh-whatever you want, Master."

"Good answer. Count them out."

Before Blaine could figure out what Kurt meant, Blaine felt a sharp smack, harder than any of the previous ones on his right ass cheek. He let out a loud cry that sounded equal parts surprised, pained and immensely aroused. The final product sounded surprisingly wanton.

"Beautiful noise, but that wasn't counting. Try again."

Another smack, just as hard as the last to his left cheek.

"Ah! One!"

"Very good, pet."

Another smack, to his right.

"Tw-two, oh God!"

Kurt kept this up, alternating right to left, smacks getting progressively harder and Blaine becoming progressively more desperate. Several times he had to be smacked again because he forgot to count.

Another smack.

"Seventeen!"

It was probably more like twenty-two. Another smack.

"Hng! Eight-eight..."

"Now, now, pet, eight was a long time ago. Try again."

Another smack. Blaine's knees were shaking so hard he didn't know how he was still standing. His cock was so hard he felt that a single touch would push him over the edge.

"Eighteen! Eighteen!"

Another smack.

"Nnnghineteen."

"I'll let it slide. Final smack, this time I want to hear 'Thank You, Master, for punishing your pet.'"

A smack across both his cheeks, right on the cleft. Blaine let out a loud whine.

"Bad, pet. 'Thank You, Master, for punishing your pet.' Try again."

It took Blaine three more tries before he managed to choke out the words. Blaine was sweating profusely and was panting harder than he did after his weekend jogs. Blaine thought he would die from arousal.

And then he felt Kurt rubbing up against his sore ass, his hard dick sliding in between his abused cheeks, slick with the sweat running down Blaine's spine. He was thrusting against him, his hipbones slamming his cheeks, sending flares of painful pleasure down to his cock. Kurt's hand slid up his sweaty chest and tweaked his stiff and achy nipples. One of the hands slid down to Blaine's straining erection, squeezing once. He felt Kurt's breath by his ear.

"Come for me, my beautiful boy."

Blaine came with a loud cry before he promptly blacked out.

* * *

><p>When Blaine came to, he found himself being wiped clean of his come on his front and of Kurt's come on his back with a moist towelette as he was held up on his knees by a strong arm across his pecs.<p>

He was sad he missed that.

"Back to the world of the living, are we Blaine?"

Blaine was panting, still out of breath from the unbelievable orgasm that had just racked through his body.

"The game is over. How do you feel?"

"How-how do I _feel? _Kurt, I just passed out from the force of my orgasm, _that's how I fucking feel."_

Kurt chuckled and finished wiping Blaine off.

"No, I meant, was that okay? Did you feel I pushed you too far? Did you feel uncomfortable at any point of the session?"

"...No, Kurt it was- it was fantastic. I never would have guessed just how much I enjoyed that. How- how right it felt."

Kurt pulled Blaine's boxer briefs up and Blaine let out a small hiss of pain as the elastic caught the sore flesh of his ass. Blaine turned around on his knees to face Kurt, who looked like the very picture of perfection with the light sheen of sweat on his face and chest and with a slight flush still colouring his cheeks from his climax.

"The soreness should get better with time, but for the first time it might linger for a couple of days. You should be better by work on Monday."

"...I hope it's not. I want to remember this."

Blaine was shocked at his own admission, but he found that he couldn't take it back. It was true. He wanted to feel the evidence of Kurt's actions on him for as long as he could. Kurt just smiled at him, looking pleased and maybe a little proud.

"Then maybe we can meet up on Sunday and I can freshen up the beautiful shade of red you've got going on."

Blaine smiled.

"It's a date."

* * *

><p><strong>Well, what did you think? I'm trying to have Kurt and Blaine's relationship walk the fine line between a 'normal' relationship and that between a professional Dom and their sub.<strong> **Tell me what you thought in a review, good or bad, I love getting them!**


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